


I loved you every mile (you drove away)

by Rivendell101



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (kind of), Exes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Sex on a Car, Stranded, almost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 19:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivendell101/pseuds/Rivendell101
Summary: Being stranded in a car with her ex wasn’t really on Lydia’s agenda. Realizing she’s still hopefully in love with him definitely wasn’t part of the plan either.





	I loved you every mile (you drove away)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southsidewrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/gifts).

> For Becca/@southsidewrites!

“You aren’t paying for me to Uber four hours back to Riverdale, are you?” Lydia asks suspiciously. She pauses curling her hair to glance at her phone, Face Time open.

On the other side of the screen, Jubilee Jones rolls her eyes. “No, I didn’t pay for an Uber. You think I have that kind of money laying around? I work at a florist shop and bartend on weekends.” The brunette is blocked from view by a big, orange tabby cat investigating the phone.

Lydia grins as Jubilee scoops up the cat and plops him on her lap. “How am I supposed to know? All you said was ‘don’t bother getting your car fixed, or spending money on a bus, I’ve got it covered.’ ” Honestly, that had been something of a relief. It would have cost a fortune to have the old car fixed and the guys down at the shop wouldn’t have been able to get it in until tomorrow morning, and by then it would have been too late. “How _am_ I getting to Riverdale anyway?”

Jubilee scratches under the cat’s chin as she shifts, tucking her legs beneath her. “I had a… friend in the area that said they could give you a ride.”

Lydia sends her a look. Because that’s not cryptic at all.

“Do I know this friend?” Lydia turns off her curler and unplugs it, checking to make sure her bag is ready. She doesn’t have much, just a change of clothes for the weekend and some toiletries, but she should be fine.

“You could say that.” Lydia frowns, about to ask what that means when Jubilee sits up. “Looks like he’s there!” The cat jumps from her lap and plods away.

Shaking her head, Lydia scoops up her bag and lifts her phone from the vanity, heading for the window to see who it is. Hopefully, Jubilee didn’t send one of the Southside Serpents to pick her up. As much as she’s grown to like members of the gang, she’s not sure her neighbors would appreciate it.

Lydia’s mouth drops open when she recognizes the car that pulls up in front of her apartment steps. The familiar, black, 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle slows to a stop, parks, and though she can’t _see_ who it is in the front seat through the windows, she knows _exactly_ who it is.

Jubilee goes suspiciously quiet over face time and her lips twitch in amusement as Lydia stares out the window with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Okay,” the other brunette starts slowly over the phone, “so I know you’re probably panicking right now, but—”

“Jubilee, what the hell?” Lydia glares at her friend as she ducks away from the window, praying he didn’t see her. “Why is Reggie Mantle parked outside my apartment?”

She has a sinking feeling she already knows the answer, which is only confirmed by the mischievous glint in her friend’s eyes. “He’s your ride to Riverdale,” Jubilee explains simply, looking far too calm for the words coming out of her mouth. Probably because she’s the one that gave Reggie her apartment address in the first place.

“No,” Lydia responds immediately. “No. Nope, this is not happening.” _Not today Satan_.

Jubilee sighs, her eyes rolling as she sinks back into her chair. “Lydia,” she starts, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, but Lydia immediately shakes her head. “Come on, it’s not—”

“No,” she repeats, peeking around the curtain again. She almost swears when she sees him getting out of the car. “Absolutely not, Jubilee.” Again, she ducks away from the window. “I’m not going to catch a ride home with my _ex_.” Maybe she can just pretend she’s not home. He’ll have to leave eventually if she does that. “I’m not going.”

Jubilee’s eyes widen as Lydia mutters to herself. “What? Lydia Tabitha Boyd, you are not skipping _my wedding_ because of a breakup from almost two years ago.”

“Oh, please,” she says without thinking, “like this will be your only wedding.”

“_Lydia_.” Oops, too far.

She cringes. “But, Jubilee,” she whines, dragging out the other girls name and pouting. Maybe she can appeal to Jubilee’s softer side today and she really will pay for an Uber to pick her up.

But Jubilee only grins at her. “Buckle up, bitch, it’s a long drive to Riverdale.” Before Lydia can retaliate, Jubilee disconnects and the screen goes dark.

Lydia just stands there for a second, weighing her options and trying not to panic. The way she sees it, she can either be stuck in a car with her ex for a few hours and be a bridesmaid at one of her best friend’s weddings, or she can skip the wedding, piss off Jubilee, and suffer her wrath.

Neither is appealing.

Deciding she’d rather not piss off an already stressed bride-to-be, Lydia sighs and shoves her phone into her pocket. She takes a deep breath, silently prays that this doesn’t end up being a disaster, and shoves open her front door, locking it behind her.

She can do this.

He doesn’t notice her at first, fully engrossed in tapping away at his phone—he’s probably texting Jubilee, that traitor—and Lydia takes a moment to just _look_ at him as she walks up to his car. It’s been a little over a year and a half since they broke up at the tail end of their college days and though she’s loath to admit it, Reggie looks just as good as the last time she saw him. Maybe even better. He’s always looked like a knock-off Calvin Klein model, all biceps and abs that make you want to lick them. And right now, even wearing sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, he looks pretty damn delicious, if she’s being honest with herself.

For a second, she can’t remember why they ever broke up in the first place.

Reggie finally tears his eyes from his phone, noticing her for the first time. He grins and straightens from where he’s leaning up against his car. “Hey, Angel.” Her heart skips at the old pet-name. “You look like you could use a ride.” He has the audacity to _wink_ at her.

Ah, yes. That’s why.

The smile on her face is tense. “Hi, Reggie.” Why couldn’t it have just been an Uber? She’d rather pay some ridiculous fee than be stuck in a small car for four hours with Reggie Mantle. Of all people why did Jubilee have to ask him to give her a ride?

Scratch that, Lydia knows why. This is punishment for getting wine drunk at their last girl’s night and moping the entire time.

Reggie’s smile only widens. “Lyds,” he greets her, looking her up and down briefly and making her squirm internally. She almost regrets her choice of shorts, a tank-top, and sandals. Almost. The way his eyes linger on her legs definitely make up for it. “Can I just say you’re looking—”

“Reggie,” she says, stern.

His expression is all puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”

Lydia sighs. She can’t believe she’s saying this but, “just get in the car.”

He grins at her again. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lydia desperately hopes she isn’t blushing as he unlocks the car. Reggie waits for her to throw her bag in the backseat and slide into her familiar spot in the passenger seat of his car before following her. The car is started without a word from him, and Lydia doesn’t know what’s worse, the silence or one of his dumb jokes.

Reggie turns on the radio to some hip hop station that makes her eye twitch with annoyance, but she keeps her mouth shut. Out of the corner of her eye she catches Reggie smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

It’s going to be a long drive.

* * *

For the first hour, the car is relatively quiet. Lydia busies herself with staring determinedly out the window in an attempt to ignore him and Reggie sings along quietly with the radio, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the beat of a song she doesn’t recognize. It’s rap or hip-hop, the beat loud and fast enough that she can feel it pumping through her veins.

She’s pretty sure her ears are going to start bleeding soon.

She’s texted Jubilee twice, but she hasn’t responded. Either she’s avoiding Lydia because this is a setup or she’s busy with wedding plans—or _busy _with Sweet Pea, but Lydia doesn’t want to think about that.

They’re only an hour into the drive and she’s already losing her mind.

Lydia considers pulling out her headphones and grabbing the book she shoved into her bag earlier, but doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He _knows_ she doesn’t listen to music like this. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Lydia watches as Reggie bobs his head to the music, mouthing the words. As if feeling her gaze, Reggie’s brown eyes lock with hers, a smug smile growing on his face.

The asshole _winks_ at her and Lydia huffs and looks away before he can see the blush creeping up her neck.

“Would you turn that shit down?” she snaps at him, heat prickling along her skin. With her arms folded across her chest, Lydia refuses to look at him again, hoping she sounds more irritated than flustered.

Reggie reaches for the radio and she sighs, thinking he’s finally going to turn down that awful music and stop the assault on her ears. Before she can relax though, Reggie cranks the music louder. “What?” he shouts over the music. “Did you say something?”

“Reggie, I swear to God,” she manages to choke out, shivering as the smooth tone of his voice curls down her spine like a physical touch. God, how is she _still_ so affected by his voice after all this time?

He blinks at her innocently. “Isn’t that blasphemous?”

“Reggie!”

A large grin pulls at his lips and he turns back to the road. “Sorry, babe, can’t hear you.”

The pet-name rolls from his tongue so easily that she almost doesn’t realize he’s said it. But then it hits her in the chest. A sharp, quiet inhale escapes Lydia, a hiccup that can’t be heard over the music. Reggie seems to realize it too a second later, and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Lydia bites her bottom lip and wonders if that still drives him crazy.

(It does.)

Being in this car is taking her back to memories she’s tried so hard to forget. Sneaking into the church back in Riverdale. A midnight drive along the coast when he was going to South Florida. The two of them on a quiet beach, their toes sinking into the wet sand and sticking to them like a second skin. The air, sticky and humid as they lay between the sheets, naked limbs intertwining despite the thin layer of sweat clinging to them. Even after almost two years she can still feel the tickle of his fingers trailing along her thigh, the heat of his breath against her neck as he moaned her name.

The echo of his touch makes her shiver with anticipation but she shuts the feeling down before it can fester. The last thing she needs is to dwell on Reggie Mantle and his hands and voice and _mouth_.

Lydia yanks the book out of her bag as well as a pair of headphones, steadfastly ignoring him even as Reggie’s grin grows wider.

* * *

Lydia begins to regret her decision exactly thirty minutes later when her stomach starts to flip sickly. The thrumming bass of Reggie’s music is giving her a headache and the vertigo is quickly catching up to her. Just great. She shifts in her seat, fiddling with her fingers in her lap after slipping her book back into her bag. Taking deep breaths through her nose, Lydia wills herself not to throw up all over herself and the interior of Reggie’s car. As much as she’d like to get back at him for being an annoying pest, she really doesn’t want to smell like vomit for the rest of the drive.

Subtly, Lydia glances at Reggie. He stares straight ahead out the window. Lydia crosses her arms and bites her lip again. Reggie’s gaze briefly snaps to her.

After a few minutes of her silent squirming, Reggie finally takes pity on her and pulls into a gas station off the highway. Or maybe he’s just worried about her puking in the car. Regardless, she’s grateful.

Lydia tries not to visibly sigh in relief as they turn into the lot. “Why are we stopping?” Already her stomach is starting to settle and she could _kiss_ Reggie for pulling over.

He turns the car toward the pumps and sends her a look. “Gas,” he tells her shortly, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

_Liar_. “You have over half a tank left,” Lydia says, gesturing to the dashboard. And she’s been in this car enough time to know how far they can drive without needing to get gas. Besides, the tank was full when he picked her up.

Reggie’s finger tap against the steering wheel as he avoids her gaze, fiddling with the keys after shutting the car off. “Yeah, and we’re going to be driving for like two more hours. So, unless you want us to run out of gas on the way there…” he trails off expectantly and Lydia rolls her eyes.

Her phone lights up with a text from Jubilee and she waves off his sass. “Okay. Whatever.” Lydia unlocks her phone and unbuckles her seat-belt. “I’m going to run inside quick.” She slides out of the car without waiting for a response and slams the door shut behind her.

She’s halfway across the parking lot before Reggie throws open his car door and calls after her, “grab me a donut!”

“No!” she shouts back.

“Lydia!”

The chiming of the bell above the door drowns out anything else he might have said.

She doesn’t browse the convenience store for long, walking around just long enough for her stomach to settle. Reggie must be done with the car by the time she’s gotten herself a to-go cup of coffee and a bag of skittles, but he doesn’t come looking for her, and she’s grateful for that.

Being in that car with him is suffocating in ways she doesn’t remember them ever being before. Things are still so easy between them, and she hates that. Because they broke up. Because she should have moved on by now, but there’s a little part of her that refuses to. Because he’s _Reggie Mantle_ of all people and he drives her crazy in the best and worst ways.

There’s still a long two hours before they get to Riverdale and she’s already frazzled.

Shaking her head, Lydia plops her things down on the counter, flashing the cashier a small smile.

“Anything else for you today?” the cashier asks, looking her up and down a little slower than necessary. He’s her age, maybe a little younger, and Lydia contemplates chugging the coffee and going back for another one as her smile becomes brittle.

“Not today, thanks.”

The cashier only nods, suddenly more bored than a moment ago. “Any gas outside?”

Lydia glances out at the Chevelle, but doesn’t see Reggie at the pump. He’s probably finished already. “Uh, no—” A warm hand settles low on her back and Lydia gasps, jolting. Her head snaps up to find Reggie standing behind her, an easy smile on his face.

“Pump three,” he tells the cashier, hand still on Lydia’s back. An annoying prickle of heat licks up her spine. And he must not realize it, but his thumb rubs slow circles against her back through her thin shirt, making her shiver at the achingly familiar touch. “And we’ll take this too.” He plops a pack of donuts onto the counter. “Thanks.”

The cashier rings them up and Reggie hands over his card.

Lydia takes a slow breath through her nose and fights the urge to lean back into him. “Reggie,” she bites out, sending him another look.

He peers down at her with wide, innocent eyes. “What? I said I wanted donuts.” He swipes said donuts off the counter and grabs her coffee, holding it out of her reach as he walks out the door. Lydia huffs and storms after him, struggling to keep up with her much shorter legs.

“You’re infuriating!” she shouts at him, watching his shoulders shake with laughter from behind. A trio of bikers across the parking lot glance up at her, but she waves off their concern. She’s never needed bikers to help her handle Reggie. Though, Sweet Pea would be ideal for knocking in his idiot brother’s head.

Reggie doesn’t even look at her, just offers a “cheers!” with _her_ coffee. “You love me!”

She rolls her eyes and jogs the rest of the way to the car, wrenching open the door just as Reggie starts the engine. As soon as she’s settled in Reggie plops her to-go coffee back in her hands and rips open the pack of donuts.

* * *

For a while, the drive went well. Lydia had her coffee. Reggie had his donuts. And the highway was an empty expanse of road. With the radio down, Lydia could think again, and she was slightly disturbed how _natural _it felt being back in this car with him. It’s been almost two years since they broke up, but it’s instinctive, the way she curled up in her seat.

More than once Reggie’s fingers twitched like he wanted to put his hand on her thigh like he used to, but he always caught himself at the last second and shook his head like he was being startled back into reality.

It went like that for a while.

The rabbit in the middle of the road was unexpected.

It happened fast. Reggie’s foot slammed down on the brakes. Lydia was jolted from her daydreaming as she lurched forward in her seat. The seat-belt slammed against her chest and knocked the breath out of her. Her grip on the to-go cup slackened in surprise. Coffee spilled down Lydia’s front, drenching her shirt and making her shriek in surprise.

“It’s okay, baby,” Reggie coos after they’ve pulled over and Lydia is wriggling out of her soaked tank-top on the side of the road. “You’re gonna be just fine. It’s just a little coffee.”

Rolling her eyes, Lydia glares at him over her shoulder, watching in annoyance as he pats the side of his car and mops up the coffee sticking to the leather seat. “Seriously, Reggie? I just spilled hot coffee all over myself and you’re worried about your car?” She wrings out her ruined shirt, nose scrunching in disgust as coffee drips onto the ground by her feet.

He doesn’t turn around, too focused on the car. Or maybe he’s trying to be polite for once and not ogle her while she’s half-naked and sticky. “This car is my _baby_, Lydia,” he reminds her, scoffing. “I would _die_ for this car.”

“Oh, yes, how could I forget,” she snaps back sarcastically. “You loved this car more than you loved me.” It’s comes out more bitter than joking, and Lydia squeezes her eyes shut, sighing through her nose.

Behind her, Reggie stops stroking Bella. “That’s not true,” he tells her immediately. The firm tinge to his voice makes her suck in a sharp breath and she stills. Reggie glances at her, eyes on her stiff shoulders, her hair falling into her face. “Lydia?” he says, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear him. “Lydia, I—”

“Can you toss me one of the shirts from my bag?” Reggie is quiet for a while before she hears the pull of a zipper as he opens her bag. There’s a soft brush of fabric against her back and she takes it without looking at him. “Thanks.” Immediately, she recognizes the sweatshirt. Her favorite one. “Reggie, this isn’t mine.” Her throat tightens at the sight of it.

He doesn’t respond for a second. “I know.”

“Reggie—”

He cuts her off with a sigh. “Just take it, Lyds,” he tells her, softer than before.

She hesitates until he slams the car door shut and walks around to his side, waiting for her. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and holds the sweatshirt to her chest. After a minute, she finally slips Reggie’s old USF sweatshirt over her head and tries to ignore the way it feels like coming home.


End file.
